


Things of Great Worth

by lyricwritesprose



Series: Practical Mythology Series [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose
Summary: The Doctor may not care much about money, but he does know what's valuable. Epilogue of sorts to "Practical Mythology."





	Things of Great Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picking by wmr. All remaining mistakes are mine, of course.

"Believe it or not, we don't have to go to twenty-first century London every time you get hungry. They do have food on other planets."

"I didn't say _food,"_ Rose said. "I said _chips._ B'sides, I don't have money for other planets."

It was the not-quite-bickering of two people who were fundamentally comfortable with each other. I was lagging a bit behind them, so I let myself smile a little. They might not be exactly a couple, but they were ridiculously cute together–

Cute. Time Lord.

That was the reason I wasn't participating too much in the conversation. I kept thinking things that just broke my brain.

Rose followed the Doctor into the TARDIS. I followed her, and it hit me _again_ —it was a TARDIS. A real one. Okay, I'd known all along that it was bigger on the inside and incredibly advanced, but in my head, it was the difference between seeing an exquisite sword and seeing Excalibur. One was just impressive. The other was–dizzying.

I put a hand on one of the golden-bronze pillars. I didn't even know what it was made of, but I could tell it hadn't come out of any traditional factory. There were tiny variations in the material, like the grain of wood or the whorls in Draznian land coral. It was warm under my hand and slightly rough, and I could feel the continual low hum of the ship through it, like a very deep purr.

"Typical," the Doctor said, close enough behind me to make me jump. "Take my eyes off you for twenty seconds, and what do I find you doin'? Flirtin' with my TARDIS." He put his hand beside mine. He didn't just smile; his face _relaxed_ into a smile, the look of someone seeing a long-time lover. And I could have sworn that the purr of the ship changed ever so slightly. "Beautiful, isn't she?" the Doctor said. He sounded, for just an instant, very gentle.

"Yeah." Just at that moment, I wasn't thinking about the beautiful _ship._ You wouldn't think that the Doctor's face—lean, angular, sharp, and more than a little harsh–could produce such a range of glorious smiles. When he enjoyed something, he shone with it.

I wanted to kiss him. Extensively. I didn't even know if Time Lords did sex, but—

Kiss. Time Lord. Two more concepts that should have seemed ludicrous together.

"Do you two want to be alone?" Rose said from the other side of the railing, sounding amused.

"Oi! It's we _three,_ thank you very much. Th' TARDIS counts too." The Doctor gave the pillar a parting stroke and then stepped away. "Now, where were we?"

"Chips," Rose said.

"We can eat somethin' besides chips. Time to broaden your horizons." The Doctor lunged for the console, going from tender to hyperactive in an instant. "I know just the place—"

"Does it have—" Rose grabbed onto the railing. I followed her example and was glad of it. "Food sold on the street, preferably fried, an' not even a little bit good for me?"

"Absolutely!"

"Great! Second question: can any of us pay for it?"

"I have a little bit in a Alzaranian numbered account," I volunteered. It wasn't strictly true. The truth was, I had a fairly large nest-egg in a Alzaranian numbered account. And I was trying to get used to trusting again, so I should probably say— "Actually, a pretty decent amount. But I'd like to keep most of it as emergency money."

"We are not goin' to Alzarain before the forty-third century, and your money's no good after."

Rose looked from me to the Doctor. "What happens in the forty-third century?"

I could answer that. "There was a man who ruled the planet–real ruthless type, name of Ezrin Caol—"

"And then," the Doctor said, "there wasn't."

I looked at him more closely. "Is this another banana-grove thing?"

He stopped fiddling with the thing that looked like an airpump—why did a near-magical ship have something that looked like an airpump?—and looked up, seeming offended for an instant. "'Course not!" A sudden grin. "Apricots. Come on, you two." He headed for the inner door, talking as he went. "Money. The problem with money is, it's all in peoples' heads. On one planet, you have a pocket full of pure wealth. Next world over, it's dead beetles."

_"Beetles?"_ Rose looked somewhat alarmed.

"Llihuiri Two." The Doctor's voice floated back through the door. "Jungle world. You know the John Haldane quote, about god bein' especially fond o' beetles? The Llihuiri natives noticed the same thing, and decided—"

I followed Rose and the Doctor through the door and lost track of what he was saying for a moment.

This morning, that door had led to a hallway. One direction went to a cozy sort of den, all armchairs and wood paneling and bookshelves. The other direction led to the kitchen, and past it to my room.

Now, the hallway was just _gone._ We'd come out in a circular room full of dark wooden cabinets, with doors and drawers of all shapes and sizes.

The rooms moved. I was on a real TARDIS. With a real Time Lord. And the rooms moved when he wanted them to.

Or popped into existence. I'd figured it out before, when he talked about creating or erasing rooms, but it really hit me this time; my bedroom hadn't existed before the Doctor wished it into being. Not even ordered it created. I'd spent last night dancing and drinking with him and Rose, and he'd never said a word. He just made it happen.

To a criminal—or to a Time Agent, or just someone who's spent a lot of his life struggling and lying and knowing viscerally that trust is a weakness they can use to get you—that thought is pure nightmare fuel. You don't let other people control your environment. They'll use it to hurt you. My room didn't have to have _doors_ if the Doctor didn't feel like it, and what happened if he wished it away when I was inside?

But underneath that, underneath the trained-in paranoia, I felt like a child watching a magic show for the first time. And besides—

Rose punched the Doctor lightly in the shoulder. "You," she declared, "are showing off."

"Ow!"

"You're like any bloke with a sports car. You want all the other blokes to know your engine is bigger—"

"We are _not_ going there."

Rose grinned.

Besides. We weren't talking about some implacable celestial enforcer, distant and heartless. We were talking about a Time Lord who put up with—no. We were talking about a Time Lord who _enjoyed_ being teased by a shop girl. Depended on it, even. He might be able to get by without it, but it would be like living without sunshine.

More crazy combinations. Time Lord. Teased.

Rose opened a drawer at random as she talked and pulled out a small leather bag. It looked like a purse from the middle ages, and I wondered if this was a currency storage. The Doctor was right; money is different everywhere, and you realize that when you see exactly how much trouble Time Agents have to go through to get non-anachronistic coinage. More modern systems are even harder. Rose fumbled with the drawstring, which was tied in an odd-looking knot.

And then she got it, and gasped as gold dust spilled all over her hands and the floor. It looked especially rich in the TARDIS's orange lighting. Rose said, "Oh," and dropped to her knees to try to brush the escaped grains back into the purse.

The Doctor shook his head. "S'okay. TARDIS systems'll clean that up better than we can."

"What, you've got _gold dust_ an' you're telling me to just let it get swept up?" For the first time since I'd met her, Rose seemed shocked by something the Doctor had said.

"'Course." He seemed faintly surprised by her reaction. "Look, if it makes you happy, I can tell her to try and put the grains back where they were, but it's just gold. Useful for a few things, bit pretty—" He shrugged as if he couldn't think of any more to say about it.

Rose looked at him as if he were crazy, then scooped a good portion of the dust back into the bag. "Where did you get this, anyway? Don't tell me you started the California gold rush or something."

"Okay."

"What's okay mean?"

"Okay, I won't tell you that." A goofy grin. Rose rolled her eyes.

I thought he was joking. I wasn't entirely sure. "Doctor," I said, "can the TARDIS do this for anyone besides you?" I motioned at the room around us.

"Move rooms, you mean?" The Doctor pulled a few small objects out of a different drawer and pocketed them before I could really see what they were. His voice was back to neutral.

He knew perfectly well that a decent-sized part of me was scared of him. And he might be willing to use it, I suddenly realized, but that didn't mean he liked it. I nodded and made sure I sounded casual, not intimidated. "In some situations, having the sickbay right next to the entrance might be seriously useful." Assuming the TARDIS had a sickbay. Could Time Lords get hurt?

Even if they couldn't, he would have built something like a sickbay for Rose. "She'll usually help you out if you're injured," the Doctor said. "'Pain' is one of those concepts that cross most species, and she doesn't like feelin' people hurt." He moved back towards the door. "Beyond that, though—summonin' up a particular room? That's not somethin' I can teach you." He went through the door, still talking. I followed him and came out in the control room. "The TARDIS is an eleven-dimensional entity who experiences time— _all_ of time, the bits that happen and the bits that don't—as a unified whole. She's different. She's more different than you can imagine. _I_ can barely communicate with her, sometimes, and we're telepathically linked." He tapped the side of his forehead.

"Which is why the translation went out the time you drank that fruit juice, right?" Rose said from behind me.

The Doctor gave her a fondly exasperated look. "We do not talk about the fruit juice." Then he looked back at me, eyes slightly narrowed.

Ah. There was a question here, and it was an important one: _can you handle this?_

The TARDIS was alive, and more. From how the Doctor talked about her, the TARDIS was a true xenosapient or perhaps even xenotransapient; a being with as much or more raw _problem-solving_ ability as a sapient, but with a totally different mental structure. Missing things that we can't think without, like language or the concept of loss; thinking things that we can't possibly conceive.

If I was the slightest bit prone to xenophobia, the mere thought of _living inside_ a xenosapient would give me the shakes. Important for the Doctor to know whether or not that would happen. But beyond that–I thought of the way he had touched the pillar. There was a relationship there, even if I didn't (and perhaps couldn't) comprehend it exactly. Understanding the TARDIS wasn't a prerequisite for traveling with the Doctor, but _respecting_ her was absolutely non-negotiable.

"Telepathically linked," I said thoughtfully.

"That's right."

"So you're saying that the most effective way to flirt with the TARDIS—is to flirt with _you."_

For a very, very brief instant, the Doctor's face was absolutely blank. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't that. I'd actually surprised him.

Rose collapsed into giggles.

Then the Doctor grinned and informed me that I might not want to go there because the TARDIS liked very expensive drinks, and after that, we landed, which meant a lot of running around the central column (on the Doctor's part) and a lot of holding on (Rose and me). So he never actually _said_ that I passed any kind of test, or that he was glad I hadn't run away, or that the fact that I was getting used to him (Time Lord. Used to!) made him happy. I might have imagined all that.

But I doubt it.

~~~~~~~~

We were on Lune d'Tethys, in the middle of Ariville, and it was the Festival of Lights.

What that meant was streets full of color and music, even away from the midtown parade, and festival clothing from dozens of Earth cultures (some of them, I knew from experience, wildly inaccurate—but nobody actually cared) and a thousand delicious smells from the little booths that sold everything from teriyaki to fried chaffrei stalks. A trio of children dashed past with elaborate paper butterflies on strings. The Doctor in his mostly-black clothes looked wildly out of place among all the gold and purple and red.

I had been wanting a quiet word with Rose for a while, and the happy tumult provided a good opportunity. "So, this fruit juice—"

She grinned. "You really are a scoundrel, aren't you?"

"Oh?"

"Got a nose for blackmail material."

"Okay, now I'm really interest—"

"Will you two come over here and decide what you want?" the Doctor called out.

Rose got chaffrei stalks, after I assured her that they were supposed to be that funny orange color and ordered them myself. The Doctor was the odd one out; he got jiaozi. The trouble came when he tried to pay for them.

"I can't accept that."

"Why not? 'S worth more than the food."

I stared at him, feeling what Rose must have felt with the gold. A black star sapphire. A _twelve-point_ black star sapphire. A twelve-point black star sapphire the size of a _bottle cap,_ and he just said _worth more than the food._

It was not, technically, a lie. In the same way that calling Jupiter _bigger than a car_ is not technically a lie.

I blinked and looked around.

I wouldn't have chosen this food stand, honestly. Not that it looked bad, just that it wouldn't have caught my eye. It had a lantern hanging from the roof–they all did, it was the Festival of Lights, after all–but the lantern looked a year or two old, and so did the golden fringe that dangled from the front of the canopy. The girl behind the counter—black-haired, cute, petite enough that she'd bump up against my chest if I hugged her—had a cheery professional demeanor, but it had the slightly worn look of someone who'd been working for a few hours straight.

"Ohhh, it's _beautiful,"_ Rose said, leaning in to look at the sapphire. "What is it?"

"Gemstone." The Doctor looked proud of himself. "Think I might have some made into earrings in the wardrobe room, if you're interested. 'Course, that means actually tryin' to find somethin' specific in the wardrobe room. Might not be worth it." He turned back to the food stand girl. "'S real, if that's what you're thinkin'. Called a sapphire. It's—"

"Why's it not blue, then?" Rose said.

"Sapphires come in all colors." That, to my surprise, was the girl. She flushed a little as all three of us looked at her. "I like jewels. I've read up on them. If that's real—and I'm sure it is," she added hastily, in the interest of not alienating a customer, "then it's worth far too much for me to accept—"

"Right now," the Doctor said, _"to me,_ it's worth two orders of chaffrei stalks and some dumplin's."

He was, I thought, lying through his teeth. It wasn't about the food. It was because he'd caught the scent of near-poverty from this girl. To him, the sapphire was worth two orders of chaffrei stalks, some dumplings, and the thought that sometime soon, a nice young woman would be shocked absolutely speechless by her ridiculous good luck. And it would have _worked,_ too, if he hadn't picked someone, completely by accident, who knew a little about gemstones.

I remembered a line from a story, something about the point of Winterfest being that, if you were very good and very lucky, you could grow up to be Grandfather Holly. (Or Father Christmas, or San' Nicalos, depending on your tradition.) I don't think I'd ever seen anyone actually _do_ it before.

"'S my rock, innit?"

"Yes, but–"

"Means I can do what I like with it, doesn't it?"

Of course, the Doctor didn't exactly look or sound the part. The girl was starting to look a little bit trapped, and that in turn was frustrating the Doctor, and from what I'd seen, the Doctor got acerbic when frustrated. I plucked the sapphire out of the Doctor's hand. "Doctor," I said, "why don't I handle this? You two can go check out the lanterns over there." There was a booth selling floating lanterns, both flashy plastic ones with antigrav and paper lanterns that floated with a single hot candle. "You—what's your name?" I gave her the smile.

She blushed a little. "Lixue. Lixue Carmichel."

She was young, I thought. Young and honest, or she would have taken the sapphire right off–perhaps young and romantic? I could work with that. You can convince anyone of almost anything if you can fit it into a framework that feels true to them. A con is all about finding the perfect story. _Once upon a time, there was a very rich man who loved his daughter more than anything in the world—_

~~~~~~~~

"So you see," I finished quietly, "this is what he does. Because he couldn't help her, couldn't save her, he tries to make life better for random people that he meets." Lixue was blinking back tears. "And if you take this," I pressed the sapphire into her hand and closed her fingers over it, "it'll make a sad man just a little happier. Think of it as your good deed for Festival."

A minute or so later, I joined Rose and the Doctor at the lantern booth. Both of them had been pretending not to watch me. "She kissed you," Rose observed. "That often happen to you, then? You talk to a stranger for two minutes and then they snog you for about four?"

"I am," I said, "just that good."

The Doctor snorted. "Seven point two seconds. Don't give him more of a swelled head than he's already got. I'm more interested in the fact that she gave him change."

The Doctor was timing my kisses with other people? Down to a tenth of a second? I reminded myself not to read anything into it. It was entirely possible he could always do that, part of the whole Time Lord package. "There isn't enough money in that booth to really give us change, so this is more like a gift." I passed the square tokens to Rose, along with her chaffrei stalks. "Enough money for lanterns. One for each of us. The local legend is, they make wishes come true."

Rose looked slightly awed. "What did you _tell_ her, anyway?"

For a moment, the Doctor's eyes caught mine, and they looked very dark and old. I wondered if he had been listening to me. If he were human, I would have said it was impossible, picking a conversation out of all the ambient noise.

If the Time Lords were immortal, the way the stories say, or even very long-lived, he could be much older than he looked. And if he was much older than he looked, he'd surely been in relationships before—he could have had a family—and if he was the last of his kind—

I decided not to tell anymore stories about tragic loss of children where he could hear me. How I'd figure out whether he could—well, I'd work on that. "Just a fairy tale," I said lightly.

~~~~~~~~

The best spots for launching lanterns were down by the bay. There were already people there, setting up lawn chairs and talking and supervising lackadaisically as the kids played with sparklers and glow-spray. A First Terran boy dashed by us covered almost head-to-toe in various splatters of color; he looked like an explosion in a fluorescent paint factory. Rose turned to watch him for a moment, possibly because he was a reptile, or possibly because he was the most chaotically colorful thing around. "So, thing is," she said to me very quietly, "jus' because the Doctor _looks_ human, an' he can eat pretty much any human food, it doesn't mean he's good with everything we put into our bodies. An' this fruit juice, it had something that's maybe a bit like caffeine for us, a mild stimulant, he says. Only for _him—"_

The Doctor was well ahead of us, apparently looking for a decent launching spot. He was carrying a blanket, which he had bought with his lantern money, since (he said) he didn't go in for superstition. The two of us had candles and a pair of paper lanterns, the most old-fashioned kind there was, just colorless rice paper with inset patterns that would glow a brighter yellow when the candle was lit.

The Doctor looked back over his shoulder at us. "Just so you know," he said loudly, "I have twenty-seven highly acute senses, and one of them is specifically designed for tellin' when I'm bein' mocked by _cheeky monkeys."_

"Cheeky _ape,_ thank you!" Rose said happily.

"Cheeky sex god?" I inquired hopefully, and got a punch in the arm and a _you wish!_ from Rose. "Ow!"

Oh, God. This. This was where I wanted to be. This was where I'd _always_ wanted to be, I'd just grown too old and cynical to imagine it. Just right then, it didn't matter if I never got to swive either of them. I was theirs. They were family. My magical, impossible family, and it didn't matter whether we were strolling beside the ocean or running from venom-pards, when we were together it would be home all the same—

"So what are you going to wish for?" I said to Rose, lightly, despite the sudden lump in my throat. It had been so incredibly long since I'd had a home or a family. I thought I'd given up even wanting them.

"Oh, I dunno. Still thinkin' about it. Maybe that Mum finds a man who really suits her. How about you?"

"Me?" I laughed. "Rose, I just used my skills as a con artist–skills that I used to use to _betray_ people—to trick a girl into accepting a gem that's worth offworld college tuition and a comfortable lifestyle besides. I only know I'm not in heaven because nobody's naked yet. What in the worlds could I wish for? Besides more of this."

"College t—as in, _university fees?"_

The Doctor had found a place to spread the blanket, and looked back at me. For a moment, he had that same wise, gentle slight smile he used when he touched the TARDIS. "Not a bad life, is it?"

I grinned. I've gotten accustomed to using my smile to get things, to influence people; usually, even when I feel like smiling, there's some calculation behind it. This time, it wasn't like that. I don't think I could have stopped smiling if I'd tried. "It's wonderful."

"Seriously _university fees,_ though?"

"Worth it to me," the Doctor said.

_"So_ worth it," I said.

And later on, when it was just a little darker, we watched our paper lanterns float shakily up to mingle with the multitude, like a swarm of fireflies. The gas giant Tethys dominated the sky, all blue and white, with its ring a silver band that stretched from horizon to horizon. And a thousand multicolored sparks floated up to join it.


End file.
